


Helen Magnus: Boss, Mentor... Fangirl.

by Arebas



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arebas/pseuds/Arebas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had expected Magnus to own a vast classical music collection. He had expected Jazz. He did not expect Olivia Newton-John. Then again, one should expect the unexpected when it came to Helen Magnus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helen Magnus: Boss, Mentor... Fangirl.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really ship Will/Helen but I can totally see him falling for her many charms. This is supossed to be a silly thing so, yeah. First Sanctuary fic here so I'm sorry if Helen doesn't sound British enough, kinda hard to get her voice right when one's first language isn't English.
> 
> And a big thank you to Sonicmeriver (Lakela) for the invite! :)

After endless hours tossing and turning Will sat up on his bed with an exasperated sigh. He'd had trouble sleeping in the past, when his life felt aimless and lacked challenge, but not after he had made the Sanctuary his home. These days, going to bed was a reward for a job well done or a matter of not passing out of exhaustion in a corridor. Purpose and challenge were something his life now had in abundance. But still, sleep eluded him tonight.

He thought of reading, but his mystery novels had lost their luster when compared to his everyday routines. Historical novels made him think Magnus might have been the inspiration for most of the female heroines and that put weird thoughts in his head. Sci-Fi was still entertaining, thank God, but he had finished his latest one on the last flight back home. Bookless, sleepless and defeated he contemplated his options. Not many things to do alone in the dark of one's bedroom at 3 am. He laid back on his pillow, both hands over his stomach. "Oh well," - he thought, his hand sneaking past the waistband of his sleeping shorts, - "it's laundry day tomorrow anyway".

Will found himself thinking about the most random things: the reports on his desk, the latest creatures they'd encountered, old unsolved cases that might be explained by adding the "an abnormal did it" variable... his focus completely diverted from the task at hand. Sure, it was pleasurable, and yes, it felt good, but it was about as exciting as a good back rub. If anything it was only making him feel more frustrated. "Oh come on" he growled at himself, and closed his eyes hard, determined to get off anyway to lull his overworking brain into sleep. "Sexy thoughts, man" he scolded himself. "Sex. Sex. Sex..." he sort of chanted like a mantra. "Boobs. Picture boobs." His mind flashed a few images behind his eyes. Yes, he liked boobs. He tried to focus on the images. Old girlfriends, pictures he'd sometime seen and were forever burned into his memory, his imagination finally kicking in and supplying a full array of new material to choose from. This was going to work. It had to; He had to get up early for the staff meeting and he needed his sleep... His mind slipped away from the bare chests and put him back in Magnus' office: 8 am, staff meeting - and he had his hand inside his pants.

His eyes flew open and his hand stopped moving. As uncomfortable as he had felt imagining himself in such a situation, it had surely worked. He was completely hard, his body now begging him to finish what he had started. He closed his eyes again and stroked himself, trying to get the boobs back, but his mind insisted on placing him in Magnus' office: He was standing there, she was leaning back to rest her weight on her desk, facing him. A smile on her lips and her eyes going down his body, right to where his hand got lost inside his pants.

"Oh come on..." he complained.

Back to the boobs. He had to work with the woman everyday, he had to attend the staff meetings, he couldn't allow himself this little fantasy or he'd be really uncomfortable in the morning. He forced himself out of the touching-myself-in-front-of-my-lady-boss fantasy and really tried thinking of boobs. His mind gave up and then boobs it was: Magnus' generous ones.

Eyes wide open, Will seriously considered a cold shower. His body would protest, true, but his body wasn't being particularly nice to him tonight. He had to do something. Anything. He lamented not having his laptop with him. He should have brought it up to his bedroom. He could go for online porn and get off with the visual aid instead of having to rely on his wicked imagination. Where had he left it? The library? He figured he could manage a quick walk downstairs, at this hour, chances of anyone seeing him walking through dark corridors sporting an erection were slim. Of course, the first possibility his mind conjured was bumping into Magnus. The woman didn't sleep much, he knew that. His body had a much different reaction to the idea than his rational mind. As horribly embarrassing he thought that would be, a fresh flood of blood rushed south, making his penis twitch. "Oh great", he thought "just what I needed". The cold shower was not an option anymore, and he had to choose: Masturbating to the hyper-sexualized version of his boss his mind had created for him or venturing through the silent halls in a quest to find his laptop. He knew which one he preferred.

He was no schoolboy anymore, he could tell fantasy from reality. It might get a little awkward afterwards, he was sure, but he also knew that he was probably going to blush next time he'd see her anyway. As uninvited as her nudity had appeared in his mind, he would not be able to forget he saw what he saw with his mind's eye. More so since the image was on display once again as vivid as it had been before, if not more detailed: Staff meeting, 8 am, and Helen Magnus and her wicked smile. Shirtless Helen Magnus and her wicked smile. A come hither look and a beckoning finger ordering him to come closer while her other hand sneaked behind her back. A soft "snap" and he could see her bra coming loose around her. And then the Big Guy came in with the tea tray.

Will jerked up in his bed, his heart racing. Exactly the same reaction he had that one time he forgot to lock his bedroom door at 15. "Are you kidding me?!" he hissed to the darkened room. A few moments later, when his heartbeat had returned to a somewhat normal rhythm and he was capable of breathing through his nose, he tried to psychoanalyze himself. There was clearly a conflict between this new fantasy he was allowing himself to enjoy and his conviction that it was completely inadequate. His subconscious both leading him on and stopping him dead in his tracks. And he wasn't sure which path to choose, to deny himself the fantasy in the name of decorum or to talk himself into accepting that the line was already crossed and he'd have to deal with the occasional discomfort it might bring.

"This used to be so simple" he thought, tired. He then remembered there was a discarded third option and got out of bed.

The Sanctuary looked far more intimidating in the dim moonlight. Will walked around feeling like the last person on Earth, adrenaline suddenly pulsing through his body. He tried to remind himself that he wasn't doing anything bad. This was not forbidden, he wasn't breaking any rules. It was perfectly ok to go to the library and pick his laptop if he wanted to. But when he found himself thinking "you are not 17 and you can stay up as late as you want" he knew this was a lost battle. It's hard to convince yourself you're no longer a horny teenager when you sneak out of bed at 3 am in secret search for porn with half a hard-on.

The laptop was not on the big table. Nor was it on the desk by the window. He could have sworn he left it there. Last time he used it he had been updating the creature database. He was quite sure of that. The reports were still on the table and so were Helen's manuscript notes. He remembered it clearly because he had not been able to decipher a certain paragraph and he’d had to ask Magnus about... then it hit him. His laptop was in her office. He had walked there with it to discuss her "doctor's handwriting" and the conversation had taken them far from his job, far from the database and the laptop had been left behind when they were called for dinner.

He stood in the library for a moment before he fully realised there was no way in hell he was going to go into Magnus' office in his sleeping shorts, not to mention aroused, in search of a laptop. Not tonight; Not ever. His head hung low to his chest in defeat. He might as well return to his bedroom and count sheep till the sun came up. Or he could just sit on the leather armchair in the corner by the window and dwell on his misery. Yes, that was as good an option.

The old leather cracked a little under his weight but the smell was comforting. Moonlight came directly from the window and he wondered if that was light enough to read. He turned in his seat and reached blindly into the shelf behind him for the first book he could touch. He was ready to read the Encyclopaedia Britannica if necessary but instead of books his fingers found old LP vinyl records.

He had to twitch his back and stretch, then pull real hard to get some of the albums out. All contents of the library received the best of care and even though it was obvious these records had been stacked for a very long time, they were free of dust and showed no damage. He piled a few on his lap and went through them with curiosity. He had expected Magnus to own a vast classical music collection. He had expected Jazz. He did not expect Olivia Newton-John. Then again, one should expect the unexpected when it came to Helen Magnus. Nana Mouskouri? Really? In Greek even. Next album was Donna Summer's and when he flipped it to check the tracklist, a piece of paper fell out of the dust cover. It was a photograph and it had an inscription on the back. The ink was a little faded and moonlight wasn't strong enough to allow him to read it. The picture was clear enough though: A group of people partying in some club in the seventies. He was pretty sure the woman in the middle was Donna Summer and he couldn't believe his eyes when a blonde version of Magnus in the tiniest mini skirt and longest white boots he had ever seen stared back at him from the old photograph.

"Magnus?" he heard himself say in disbelief, "well look at you... bow chika wow wow" and he chuckled lightly.

"I didn't really hit the disco scene, you know."

Will dropped the vinyl like it stung, startled.

"Hey, be careful, that's vintage!" said a very amused Helen Magnus as she walked towards him.

"Magnus?" he asked somewhat stupidly. "What are you doing here?"

She bent down and picked the album. Then took the record out of its sleeve to see if it had been damaged with the fall. "This is my library. What are YOU doing here, snooping in my old records?"

Will was suddenly very aware of the part of his anatomy those LPs on his lap were hiding. Mostly because of the effect the adrenaline rush and the sight of Helen Magnus in her otherwise perfectly decent silk pyjama were having on it.

"I couldn't sleep."

She stared on.

"And I wasn't snooping, I thought I could read or... something." He waved in the general direction of the bookshelf behind him with the photograph still in his hand.

She leaned in closer and took it from him.

"Ah," and a smile spread on her lips "Studio 54. That was quite a night. I think..." the smile took a wicked twist "... I don't really remember". And she winked at him, all fine and proper and evil at the same time.

Will laughed nonchalantly and joked with her and acted like the playful flirting had no effect on him whatsoever. But only in his mind. Truth was he was grinning like an idiot and nodding and feeling very much bothered by the thought of all those centimetres of legs under her pyjama. Imaginary boobs were one thing, but long, slender, very real legs inside long, slender, very leathery thigh-high boots in a photograph was basically torture.

Helen tilted her head slightly, enjoying herself a tad more than she felt she probably should. Seeing there was no point in waiting for a verbal response from her subordinate any time soon, she went back to study the photograph. She did remember that night, she had never really partied that hard, and, well, quite frankly that had been a memorable night. A slight blush crept to her cheeks. The seventies had been such a fun decade. More so the second time around, when being at places she would have never expected to find herself was the whole point.

Will saw her shake her head softly and bite her lip as if trying to get rid of a particularly interesting thought.

"So... " he ventured, "Donna Summer".

Helen looked back at him, waiting for the rest of the line. There wasn't any.

"Yes" she said. "She gave quite a performance that night. It was shortly after the "Love to love you" scandal. I think some were expecting something far more sexual than leather boots after all that talking of touching herself..."

Will shifted quite uncomfortably on his seat and coughed lightly.

"... you have no idea of what I'm talking about, do you?"

Will smiled confused. Whatever she was talking about, he wasn't interested in knowing. Or a little too interested, which had him convinced that he really didn't want to know. Not if he wanted his hard on to pass undetected by his boss.

"Not really, no."

Magnus directed one quick last glance at the picture and put it back inside the record cover.

"You are not going to keep it with the rest?" He asked, happy to talk about anything that didn't include the words sex, boots and touching oneself.

"The rest?" She asked putting the record back on the shelf.

"You know, that collection of yours. Your photos with other famous people."

Magnus folded her arms over her chest and looked down to him with a serious face that caught him off guard and speeded up his heartbeat. Fear in most species would overcome arousal, but Will realised to his horror that he had developed quite a fetish for women in power. More particularly women in power who could look at him with that face.

"I don't have a celebrity photo collection. Those photos were taken at very important times of my career and the people in them had a deep impact on my life. Those photos are not for show, they are memories, Will."

He swallowed hard. Just when he thought he was reading Magnus loud and clear she put him back in his place. He hated when she did that, and she did it too often. And he couldn't be sure if it was her closing up when things became to casual and personal between them or him trying to hard and going too far in his attempts at taking their relationship to a more friendly and playful level. Either way, that only made him feel at the wrong side of the conversation. 

"You're right. I'm sorry" he offered sincerely.

And she smiled at him, her arms unfolding slowly as she spoke, her hands finally tangling behind her back. "Oh, it's alright. I do display those photographs rather publicly, so I guess they are more for show than I'd care to admit."

He felt he had to make things right again.

"I wasn't implying you were some kind of fangirl, Magnus."

She let out a chuckle and he felt relieved that he had navigated the troubled waters although he wasn't completely sure of how he had managed it.

"What's wrong with being a fangirl, Will? Last time I tried it, it was fun".

And there it was again: Flirty, mysterious Magnus hinting at things he knew she wouldn't talk about. Not with him anyway.

"Fangirl?" was all he could ask while he secretly hoped she wouldn't fill him on that. For some weird reason he always had associated fans with Star Wars and that always led him to imagine any female Star Wars fan in a Princess Leia slave costume. Which he knew was tacky and inaccurate and sexist. But he couldn't help himself. And he definitely did not need to imagine Magnus in that way.

"... but well, everyone was a Beatles fangirl really" - he suddenly heard her say, realising that he had no idea of when she had started talking.

"The Beatles" - he stated. Just to make sure.

"Paul, John, George and Ringo. Yes." She told him with a nod and a smile. Then she shook her head lightly. Somehow the idea of Helen Magnus surrounded by hysterical teenagers fainting and throwing themselves at the band didn’t really work for him. But she was smiling that smile again and Will knew there was a lot more to that story than his mind could probably take. 

"I find it a little hard to imagine you at a concert, surrounded by screaming teenagers crying their hearts out, Magnus." He finally told her quite sincerely. 

Helen's smiled widened and she bit her lip trying to keep it to herself. Will swallowed again. Part of him knew he should be making jokes about this but his brain was a little occupied sending blood to his nether regions. The woman had a rare ability to render him thoughtless.

"Oh you'd be surprised at the amount of screaming I did, Will..." she insinuated teasingly, "but, you see, when one has lived as long as I have, you have the contacts and the money to arrange more private venues." And he saw a devilish grin, and a little spark in her eyes and he clearly remembered her sucking on a grape, mentioning how she had seen the sun rise with one of the Beatles. And something told him he really, really, didn't want to ask about the screaming or anything else for that matter.

Which didn't mean his mind wasn't conjuring up the possibilities. All four of them. Something that wasn't a very good idea considering that this line of thought had put an end to his side of the conversation and she was probably trying to think of some way to reach out for him.

She was actually reaching down for him. Wait, what? Why? He suddenly got out of his trance. He looked down: She was reaching for the LPs he still had on his lap. The records that were hiding the embarrassing effect she had on him. She was going to take them away. He panicked. He held on to the pile of albums like they were his most valuable possession.

"I'll put them back on the shelf myself when I'm done!"

And he was aware that he might have shrieked slightly but hoped she wouldn't notice.

Magnus, however, stopped abruptly. Her hands on the records, her face centimetres away from his, she looked up into his eyes, then back down to the pile of records, back into his eyes again... and she jerked back and took one, two short steps away from him.

He was mortified. And, surprisingly and shamefully enough, it was also electrifying. His heart pounding in his ears he was barely able to process her reaction. Or her lack of it: Helen Magnus stood petrified. That was quite an unusual sight. It didn't last long, though, to Will's dismay.

Slowly, a smile appeared on her face, and it became a grin that she again tried to suppress to no avail by biting on her lower lip. She gave it up and grinned broadly, her eyes dancing. Will feared for a second that she might burst into laughter and he would probably never be able to think of sex in his life without hearing her giggles, but she didn't.

In what he found to be quite a seductive and sultry tone, she practically whispered his name: "Oh Will..." - embarrassment and disbelief being the only things that kept him anchored to his seat, his whole body begging to jump her - "... poor thing."

That would have been funny if only it hadn't been so completely not funny. At least she wasn't laughing. Teasing, yes, but not laughing. He made the universal gesture of "I give up" with his hands and gave her ball, match and game. There really was no point in playing games with the woman, she always had the upper hand.

Helen giggled lightly and mostly to herself - which Will found quite endearing - and then pointed to the door behind her. "I'll just go to bed now and leave you to... whatever you were doing." And he could feel her confidence slip if ever so slightly, which was a relief quite honestly.

Then she took a couple of tentative steps backwards towards the door. It would all be over soon. He sighed and felt himself starting to relax a little.

"But, just..." and Helen scrunched up her nose "don't do it on my records."

His gaze shoot up again to meet with hers. Oh no, she didn't. She couldn't have!

She put her hands on her hips. "And what were you doing with my records anyway?!" She demanded with a mock serious tone.

"Nothing!" he practically yelped. "I wasn't... it wasn't... I didn't do anything!"

She looked amused and confused at the same time. Took her a couple of seconds to figure things out. Then she pointed to the shelf where the discarded LP was. "Was it the picture then?" And she looked genuinely surprised. He wished the shelves on the wall gave in and buried him under two hundred years of published science studies. Explaining the condition in which he had found himself prior to finding the photo was not even an option.

Helen was quite aware of the effect she could have on men. It usually required some participation on her part though so it was nice to see that she still had it. She was enjoying herself. "It was the boots, wasn't it. Those boots were a great buy."

Will growled softly. Uncomfortable didn't even begin to describe how he was feeling.

Helen felt a little guilty and took pity on him. Time to stop messing with the guy, she thought. "Goodnight Will" she told him sweetly as she slowly turned around and finally left the room.

Will sunk on the armchair and rubbed his eyes. "That couldn't have gone worse" - he thought. But part of him still marvelled at the fact that the hard on had not disappeared. If he ever went back to therapy, this should be something to discuss for sure.

Since jerking off on her records was not on the menu, he thought the sensible thing to do was to put them away and go back to his room where he could give into as many new fantasies he'd like. There was no point in trying to avoid future embarrassment now that he was positive he would forever blush at the mere mention of her name.

He stood up and tidily stored the albums on the shelf. His fingers brushing the spine of the Donna Summer one she had placed before. The photo was still there. He felt his stomach tighten at the idea of sneaking it up to his room. She probably wouldn't notice it gone. And if she did, how much more damage would that make anyway? He was still playing with the idea, his fingers slowly sliding the album out from the shelf when Magnus politely coughed behind him.

"I'm not touching anything!" He jumped, startling both of them.

Helen Magnus put her hand on her chest "Bloody hell, Will!" And then she smacked him on the arm, “that was quite a fright!”

He was shocked and confused and adrenaline was practically dripping off his ears. But he was quick to place Donna Summer’s album in front of his crotch.

She shook her head at him and walked towards the small ladder by the next shelf. She pushed it two more shelves to the right and then climbed on it. When she came back down, she was holding an old folder.

Will simply stared, a question in his eyes. Helen looked at him and down to the album with which he was covering himself. Then, she tsked at him.

"Ah, since I am here..." she said walking towards him. She extended her hand towards the LP but Will took a step back. She chuckled softly and offered him the folder she was carrying. Will took it and used it to cover himself while handing her the album. She slipped her fingers into the cover and dug the photo out. "I think I will keep this one in my collection after all". And still smiling she traded the album back for her folder.

Will, tilted his head to read the label on its worn out cover. It was partially blocked by her hand but he could see the stamp of a London based law firm.

"What kind of legal papers would you need at this hour, Magnus?"

She looked at the folder and then back at him and what had started as an innocent smile grew into something far more devilish.

"There was an auction a few years ago. Beatles’ personal items. Only a handful of serious collectors and very carefully selected bidders." She stopped.

Will wondered what he had missed. His brain was sure slow tonight.

"You feel the need to go through your memorabilia... now?" He asked confused. He could see a slight blush creep up her cheeks. Oh he was missing something alright, he thought.

"Seeing how thoroughly you go through my belongings and how they affect you..."

Will wondered what she was talking about because Helen's blush was in full bloom now. She leaned closer to him and whispered: "Paul liked to take pictures."

And she walked and left him there standing by her leather armchair, his mouth open, an old Vinyl record of Donna Summer hiding a hard on like had not known since he was a teenager.

And by the speed with which he dropped the album on the armchair and ran upstairs to his bedroom once the initial shock had worn out, he knew he would not need to resort to online porn for a really, really, long time.

**


End file.
